Recently, I received a bird feeder––my first ever––as a gift. Growing up, and even well into adulthood, I never fancied myself a “fancier” … of birds, that is. But in recent years, after countless hours walking and running through our neighborhood, coupled with the many evenings sitting on our deck listening to the singing, yapping, cawing and screaming of those feathered folks of all sizes, types and origins, I decided I wanted to take the next step. And now, every morning I

Contemplative ... that's where I've found myself lately. In that space between wonder and concern; contentment and restlessness. Not unhappy, just ... thinking, and wondering what's going on. And what's next. This piece is, for lack of a better term, contemplative. I wrote it while on a trip to Colorado recently. If you get it, you get it. And if you care, you care. I looked up, and I saw the sky. But not just any sky. It was the bluest, brightest, most beautiful sky I’d ever

Today’s piece deviates from my usual. It’s something I pulled directly from my collection of personal journals; snippets and thoughts I write to myself almost every day. I call my Journal, "Things I Tell Myself." The following is me communicating with me. It’s not meant to tell you what to do, how to act, or what to think. On the other hand, if you find it valuable, take it for what it is: words that are meant to inspire and light a fire within. My journaling, to date, has r